


Death of an artist among this sandy planet

by orphan_account



Category: Trigun
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 02:20:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20613329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A remaining work posted but taken down before, one about dying Orpheus on this world on arenaceous matters. By this moment, the piece holds no relevant value but since it was penned down anyway, I guess it should be left here with an exploitation an author's note.





	Death of an artist among this sandy planet

**_Disclaimer:_** The characters belong to Mr. Yasuhiro Nightow. I'm just borrowing them to expand their backgrounds further for entertainment.

Great. Why the hell did I recreate a whole new account just to post a single story then orphan it? Ignore the fucking title, although candidly saying that mess pretty much summarize this piece in general. Straight to the point, this one was brought out from a previous series that was taken down. While altering the old version to make it an original work, it seems like this particular part holds no value to stand out as a distinct story, thus has no hope to be accepted by any publishing editor let alone publisher. This is mostly altered a bit but the content is mostly the same. Nothing new, nothing creative - same old shit with familiar characters being represented as closest to canon as possible.

Why the heck did I even waste time for thisssssssss? Damn, love works in a bizarre manner. For a few months you could fervently adore something the other day your vehemence descends quicker than the sun in winter days. I should have quitted playing around and gone back to my personal life by now, maybe at least study, get more bids, earn some values, or anything productive whatever it is.

* * *

"You go and explain that to those maniacs!" There they stood. Inside the dirty alley of lengthened bricked walls covered by worn-out greyish paint, blotted with spots of dried indistinguishable red-brown liquid that Midvalley did not wish to know what it was. During a quiet evening with no one around, except for the giant moon shining down at them and glared like a gigantic eyeball that never blinked, they met together.

The fetching slim lady with straight long hair cascading like Lyonnais silk behind the back of her stylish ochre trenchcoat almost yelled at her teammate. A part of her chiseled face covered with an eyepatch, odd. Her voluble contralto reverberating in the dense air thickened throughout their grimy circumjacent space and resonated back and forward the obstacles. The voice soon vanished within the steamy climate that almost never cooled down. For the zillion time she was sick of this job, who wouldn't?

Her dignity. Oh her dignity, she hated being looked down as a failure, she hated such feelings of her pride being stepped on after her efforts were poured into sand, which was abundant on this globe. Her corpse might as well be buried within this sea of coarse tiny bits if her time ran out. Much of a fainéant she was, they might say. Did ridiculously overpowered wingnuts like them even know the determination one normal person had to trade for strength to achieve higher? To survive within this vast deserted world as a lone gunslinger abandoning ordinary for a living without mundane pressures? Who was her kidding to? This recruitment stressed her even more than before, acknowledging her life values placed among the realm of comtempt and obsolescence. She abhorred the realization that after washing her hands with vital fluids, her vitality would also be washed away as her humanhood decaying, and her sins burdened in bygones. Imagine being a bee with its sting pulled out along with its guts, for every assault it makes the chance of it dying represents, voilà!

Whatever, this was not the only time she was disdained by her 'bosses', but this was definitely a time when she met ones who she could not defy. The distances between their capabilities were to broad, this world is never fair. She felt that deeply the day she was 'invited' by the one above humans for type of employment she could not imagine possible, but it was. How large is this world actually? She shrugged a little with that thought. Being a speck of dust among the vast existences, live for a while a die within a moment along with all that responsibilities of herself discarded by her own hands. Scary, but was worth a try, deciding your life or having someone else decide it for you. Choose.

The so-called Orpheus joined into the discussion that was too unfriendly to be considered so but calling it a squabble would be too childish and calling it an argument would be too professional. Let's call it contretemps then. " down, you people." Tenor echoing within sighs. The fiasco they were stuck in was not Orpheus assigned task anyway, therefore it was understandable how he did not feel the tension of flunking. "Why don't you go and figure out other methods to fix the situation aside from arguing? The due date didn't arrive yet."

The man who was yelled at still remained collective and almost expressionless as usual. He always had this calm attribute of a Zen practitioner and the bizzare chivalry of a mad samurai. One that amazed and slightly annoyed Orpheus for the ambiguous obliviousness that he occasionally deemed. Perhaps he had that vague conformity to make himself seemed more reasonable among the hotheaded and expressive westerners. As stereotypical as it sounded, were all those easterners collectivists or what? Perhaps not, some ching-chongs he met were quite bold and audacious. Unsurprising - since they came from a big-ass country with a thickness of histories that was magically united from multifarious ethnics who conflicted one another, unsure how because he did not have time nor feel curious to read their chronicles. Maybe just the iku-iku people then.

There was a time the Orpheus approached the sword fighter and asked him as the instrumentalist tried to be amiable with everyone being the representative of the group. "Are you a samurai?"

The guy replied coldly, "I'm a rounin."

"May I ask what's a rounin?"

"A samurai who wanders around without a master to serve." Oh, by a mean they were pretty similar by that perspective, except that Orpheus would not dare to voice out that valiantly. One just had to secure for himself.

"Then, why are you here?"

"For my personal ambition."

"Which is?" Do he had to suggest for every continuation of conversation?

"I want to cut something that is not human." Turning his head to face his teammate and his messy black ponytail wavered a bit, the wanderlusting Japanese stared intensifiedly with bloodshot eyes that hold too plentifully of boredom within the dark irises. "Can you feel the thirst of me for experiencing something new?"

By that statement, Orpheus nod agreeably, perhaps Asians were not that much of humble individuals. Highlighted, individual, because that was one hell of confident individuality.

"Calm down. We can work this out before they found out. I'll help you guys."

A soothing interference took him back to the current moment. Quite a likable voice in comparison to his hideously distorted figure crawling on the floor like a cockroach. He had never seen that person's face or gotten to hear his stories, maybe the guy was just shy or he was not attentive enough. Alright then.

"So, what's the case?"

"Failed assassination, then the target raised his awareness and increased the numbers of guards." The Cyclops spoke tiredly. "I'm going to deal with him again. Can't rely on someone who is used to close-range combat in such troublesome case where the target's encircled within barriers of protection. That'll be a hell lot to clean before we can reach him."

"You'll in charge of the boss and I'm cleaning the minions then." The Asian added. "By the way, a sword is never out of bullets."

Shooting a firm glance, even more menacing with only one raven iris of her showing and glowing within the ghastly darkness that slowly engulfed them all, she said. "Yes, and its blade doesn't fly like a bullet does. Unlike when you shoot it from a bow like an arrow or something." Sarcastic much, hey it was just her personality. She was an expert of killing too, just of different type. She was aware of what she commented about. "Don't make me laugh."

Orpheus could always sense the esteem within that female. She was not dependent of anyone, having opinions and options of herself and keeping them proudly. Hey, everyone were professional hitmen. Of course they were fully aware of their capabilities and disgraces of their statuses in others' perspectives. Sometimes he wished: Damn, as if he could be as determined as they were then things would be much easier, yet one could not just decide without meticulous analytical approaches to his choice. Just no.

"Don't worry. I'm joining as your aid. I can do mass murder with my skills."

Two pairs of eyes from the blundered team gazed at him, with a bass "Thanks." showing gratitude and a secretive thought of probing into the helper's skills from the cowgirl. Of course, she was glad that they were assisted too. Two sparrow for an arrow then.

Orpheus grabbed the opportunity before her hastily, asking almost immediately with cheerful voice. "Hey Hoppered. Can you explain your abilities for us so a plan can be made? Can you all do that?"

Shit, the dude was fast. "I'm keeping the technique for myself. I can reach the main target on my own, you all go and focus on the guards." She meant it; as long as people could see her, she would be invisible with no traces of memories about her remained in them after their confrontations.

"Fine." Clever woman, he missed a chance. "I already knew Rai-Dei's technique so Hoppered, elaborate about you for us please."

"Wait. Rai-Dei shared information about his skills to you already?" A smirk from the Cyclops was how much she showed her attitude toward her companions. Too honest dears, too honest. It was always better to keep some information for oneself, especially important ones that conserved personal advantages.

"Sure. Nothing to hide. My branch of swordsmanship is the best of the best." Yeah, whatever he said. Orpheus was even more assured that easterners could be really faithful in themselves.

"Alright! Midvalley, can you us with the plan?" Yes, as had been offered by the musician. "You don't have to get directly involved if you don't want to. We just really need the mind of an incrementalist to set things up effectively so that'll be wonderful if you can help." To mention by Orpheus's outlook, that deformed guy was the most modest person in their group. Maybe it was the appearance that tamed his ego, or he was just too nice for a killer, either way it could be fatal for the dude being so outgoing.

"I will." He smiled friend amiably at them, not too genuine though. "May I ask why you choose to help them?"

"I take that as a practice." Wow, this guy could be optimistic huh? "Besides, they're too solemn when it comes to struggles. You know what people say, 'when life gives you a lemon, go make lemonade'."

"I see." How positive. Orpheus was not sure of what to feel anymore. The point was, in this case it was more than just giving lemon, in which life held their heads and squeezed lemon juice right into their eyes. By the way, forget about the juice already as nobody had sugar to mix with it anyway.

Yes, they were that oppressed by the decisions of such 'life'. If they were excluded from existing, then the ends of them would soon arrive.

.

_Now the song is just completely creepy._

Midvalley woke from his destroyed siesta, sweating bullets as if he was a gun. Granted he was by someone's definition, just not literally. Fuck, same old nightmare. He got sick of it as much as those repetitive requests from listeners asking them to play Careless Whisper (did their ranges of musical interests that limited?). Well, whatever. That would be the last time they listen to a song anyway.

That how it went. One, two, mic dropped, carcasses dropped. When the beat went down so did everybody. Things went elegantly one would clap his hands applauding this performance with droplets of blood and sweat resonating within a metallic-smelling chamber. The whole theater would be spinned by harmonious notes turning disordered. Then there was one. A survivalist; no, perhaps an 'audience'. Quite a rarity since usually all of them die at one and it had better be so. If they did not, the band might be the ones who got killed next. That was exactly what happened.

Remember, kill-all, or else. Not only their motto, but also firstly proposed by him. He always assumed the worst then had destiny proved him right and he secured himself as a cynical leader as his friends patted his shoulders occasionally and said "mate, sometimes you're overly cautious". They were not wrong but he was not neither, especially in one encounter with that unexpectedly hot- headed and cold-hearted spectator. The one and only that returned to no-longer-their concerts. That man with stylish floss hair and sapphire eyes gazed enthusiastically into the pandemonium with utter excitement as if it was a drama stage with their tragedies as his comedies. His manner joyous and attitude confident. Midvalley was slightly suprised as first, but recognizing that bizarrely perilous aura emitted from a single being. How striked him with utter caution, damn... Not the subtle 'wait, something isn't right' he often had in his mind being an attentive participant of the dark side. It's his survival instinct of a stray animal and sensitive intuition of an artist that told him right away.

That 'person' was... Cold. Serious. Bold. Precarious. Like a wild beast that could neverbe tamed. Psychotic. Odious. Melancholic. Obnoxious. **Plainly and simply saying. Three words. What- the-fuck?** Sadness and madness and anger and danger all those internecine struggles within one who raised his spikes like a hedgehog. **Felt-like-getting-stabbed-by-a-million-blades.** He could still remember that the other dudes speedily tensed up. _**Wait no stop don't mess up with this monster you guys. He'll ravish you. He'll ravish us all.** _"Don't!" A sentence was how much he could talk with them for the last time, followed by their hasty replies enunciated by anxious voices and offensive gestures mismatched with his defensive one. "Why not, Midvalley?" "He knows our 'method'!", then a pause. "I'm collecting knives. Sharp ones, capable of mass slaughter..." Their physiques dashing into the beast, "No! Don't!", a rise of that creature's hand. A desperate attempt to stop his companions to preserve them safely quickly slashed along with chunks of their bodies._** Slash. Slash. Slash. Slash. Slash.** _All that much within a millisecond. How strange and terrying it was to notice not even a single laceration was cut onto him, yet his bandmates' parts still were still separately detached as if they were Don Quixote repeatedly cut by a windmill. **Loaf** and **loaf** and **loaf** and **loaf**. Their vital fluids splashed on his suit and dripping on his face after gluey droplets landed on his skin and trickled down to the stained floor, toc toc toc.

By the aftermath of the attack, he stood immobilized, being thinly soaked as if he was standing in a stage of a tainted water concert. Ruby. Crimson. Scarlet. Vermilion. With a faint shade of pale complexion, light blue and light blonde glowed brightly among the other contrasting shades. "You'll have your identity erased from the common citizenships along with your criminal records. You're going to work for me." was the next thing he heard, then he realized his hope was not the only thing being trampled on. Ironically, at that moment he suddenly felt his sense of art was twistedly appreciated while the possession of his own existence crudely taken away.

He survived, and was glad that he survived. He continued to live arrogantly with concerns for himself even though there were days feeling like his heart was tied and dangling on a thread about to get torn off and fall. As red as the string of fate dyed with god's ichor if there was a god. Who cared about those other murderers, everybody had something to deal with. He had to live for himself, his private aesthetics, his belief, and for the commemoration of them without the belittling stares of those maniacs. He had to escape from this pitch of a hell masked by the chilling calmness of all solitary degenerates loitering around to work out their lives forcefully, who he was one among them._ Lower your head, just lower your head. We're all trashes here. No one is better than anyone._ Well, except for that 'everyone are the same, equally distasteful; except for me, I'm superior' of a powerful motherfucker.

In late night such as this when the clock hit twelve and the cycle renewed, he found himself once again sitting quietly in a pulse of retrospect, dismissing the languishedly floating aroma of mixed alcohol beverages within the hollow state of a uncrowded lounge. Verbally wordless, he kept the images of them in a delightful corner of his memory in contradiction with this shattered leftovers of reality. Through time in this impermanent world, eventually nothing remains whole. With the familiar melodious reminiscences of decaying bygones, Orpheus ended up playing alone.

* * *

**_Author's note:_** Done, this will be the last time I play around aimlessly with derivative works. Continuing to write them is too unoriginal but bending their canonical elements is highly disrespectful, so getting away from transformative fandoms which take way too much of the population will be more time-saving.

At this point I should shut up and get back to reality but well why not blabbering a bit? Works are done anyway, except that having another task or even going to sleep will be still a better option than penning down random thoughts that will soon be forgotten. A bit of lingering reminiscence before departure should be fine, I suppose. Everyone has a normal life to take care of, I'll be leaving here an insipid diary notes on education, western/eastern cultures, and the thoughts of pursuing normalcy as a casual habit of ranting alone. I need something to do before getting the invitation link. It's less time-consuming to get over with these thoughts without whining directly to anyone, otherwise we'll start a conversation then nitpick one another's life prospects.

Why Midvalley chose murderer for an occupation has never been revealed, but I don't see the point of bothering about that. Let's just assume that's the most stimulating career he could perform for a living. Personally I revere his personality of both an artist and a realist despite loathing his type of job, since after all it's never strictly determined that artists (and artist-wannabes such as me) have to be dreamers. Literally, pretty sure we have to stay awake to create our stuff, duh.

I still don't really feel for other characters, let's just say I forgot what I had written about them. Still remember reading Trigun Rising for Rai-Dei's background and as an easterner I sympathize him quite a bit, staying quiet among the crazy multicultural lads. It's just that, with Midvalley's perspective, everything seems most reasonable so he's the leading character here. Blending one's passion with his work is kinda amazing, with an exciting left-handed job assisting the main one. It's exactly the path I want to walk on; ohoho not killing and playing music but having double jobs. It'll be wonderful to nurture my private ardors with my own money.

There is a whole journey to continue, no time to fool around. The standards seem to elevate from now, it's better this way. At this moment I'm still doubting my peers, myself, our educational paths and technically everything that involves payments. This cynical tendency always loiters around and there is too time to decide everything with proper concerns. There's a bunch of ambitions to fight for, I just don't know where to start yet, but will do soon.

Lately I got stuck into a redundant argument about usefulness of degrees again and keep thinking about it, again. Indeed the business and liberal arts students become pretty sensitive when mentioning career prospect in the future, some seem optimistic and I wonder what they have in their minds. While the topic is not even new my approach to it has tensed up a bit more than in the past, must be the influence of having the more practical part-time jobs. Obviously standardized high-paying careers don't usually match public's interests. Most that do tend to be liberal arts or so, with many being rather unrealistic degrees. Maybe being educated in a nation with a curriculum revolving natural sciences make my head quite dense, even right now I participate very little in courses on liberal arts so it might be biased for me to judge. In my case, for years I stubbornly view those knowledge on humanities and soft skills as autodidactic since the reasoning process involves personal liberations to selectively collect and critically perceived information anyway, and in such circumstances which aspects are supposed to be taken to their cores? Those lessons can be quite suprisingly unoriginal though, as the thin line between schooling and indoctrination fades quite easily with all this exposure to respectable professors. I love to think trivial ideas but admittedly, just take logic class or anything as systematic to deal with thoughts. In such class you don't get taught what to think, but how to think, and not thinking subjectly for yourself. Systematization is fine. If there's too much freedom to whatever we want, we'll have very particularly done since most just pick the easier option and half-assedly rationalize it to be the best one without recognizing we don't do it because we enjoy it but because it has potentials and can act as bases for further achievements.

I despise being unable to utilize what I have learned, well unless those that are studied for fun. In the end it's not about filling up the drive but to update the RAM, always. What define our mental usage is not what or how much we collect, but how we use it in real life. I'm afraid there's no way but jump into a field and let the environment whips whoever want to adapt it to train them. I'm cool with that, whatever occur might hurt more than dealing with the clothes hanger though but sure.

Even when I tend to admire teachers as a result of Asian perception of respect on certain positions, neither I think our rigid system of education is disadvantageous nor the teachers are always believable. While to a certain degree, it's true that individuals with higher educations are more accountable at offering valid and legit perspectives, it's pretty dependent of students just to believe them merely from their persuasive manifestations. I got a few copy of lesson materials from my friends from the schools of social studies about their lectures, and ended up getting amazed with the amount of leftist ideologies being represented within the contents. No joking, there's a good reason why conservatives in the west moaning about being outweighed in college. I'm no conservative, just a free thinker. (Not to mention the term now no longer holds the meaning of classical liberal anymore but bearing additional social/moral values to its title, making its definition misleading.) Geez, it's amazing how the card flipped its side. The so-called American traditional propaganda in its own nation now become a liberating counterculture in both my fatherland and motherland.

Candidly saying, it's easier to quit an ideal than opportunity, ask those red capitalists. Some of my seniors attained their successes from faraway lands, I revere them deeply. Some returned heartbroken, it's alright. By this point, it's quite a matter of luck. There're students here studying intensely to catch the hope of getting a job in an developed countries, it can be said that making money is also a type of passion. 1/3 the average wage in developed nations support a comfortable life in 3rd world ones, people are fleeing for chances.

I just wish I would make more money. A bit on materialism, in this concrete world, the yearning for completely individualistic distinction of subjective perceptions won't help. Money with the best currencies speak instead. I'm getting additional part-time jobs. If one can't overcome the fear of a failing finance yet then at least start to cope with it, I guess. Bankruptcy is just another difficulty one has to face in life thus I have no complaint, I just don't know how other families deal with it. Either it makes me bitter when it comes to claiming properties and desperate for financial aids, limiting one's direction to specific goals is not a bad thing though.

After all, humans - in the finest trivialization - are common, dulled beings with more complex cognitions capable of building self-recreational illusions. I can't tell if people are serious with their delusional exaggeration of 'pursuing happiness' anymore, eventually they forget they're supposed to have a life with constantly changing purposes. Learn a new language, it's useful to know one or two. Get some trips, work extra hard to cover up the fees. There're long-term and short-term joys, and getting oneself to the later don't get us go anywhere further than 's a vague emotion of emptiness when finishing everything, whether it's an assignment, a work or even a random discussion/argument on the internet. nothing actually matters with all hobbies i have only lasted for months, but the undying wish to cherish those i love remains the closest one remains in my psyche.

got the link so don't bother the lack of capitalization. no challenges, no developments-i'm aware of that, still feel reluctant a bit but it's just a subtle disappointment. perhaps i'm just a coward, which is pretty ironic considering i've been chastising people who lower their heads and silence themselves for some fake, petty senses of peace and self-security while living under democracy. I realized it already but it's still irritating how certain mindsets of us get stuck between the western snowflakes demanding too many rights exceeded from what they already had and eastern authoritarian creeps telling us to banish our persuasion of liberty and get back in orders. fearing of opposition, they avoid discordance, avoid cognitive dissonance. their esteems are low, their dreams are far from reality, their self-pitying tendencies outweigh their hardworkingness and desires, their capabilities are blunted by the beliefs that they perform well enough when the requirements keep towering day by day. they shy away from actuality, from standards that don't stand outside their personal definitions. sometimes i jokingly think if we ever get to a 1st world country then we're taking their opportunities and aim at promotions while they whine about stresses from damn white collar office jobs. to be honest i'm favoring the baby boomers over those millennials due to this particular reason. most of the americans being an epitome to poke stereotypes at by the rest of the world are those ignoramuses anyway, comically theyre all over the internet and academies with favor from the intellectuals committing themselves to authority. hayek was right, even to the case of my countrys highbrows. senpai was correct to warn me not to put too much trust in the scholars, the biased viewpoints among lecturers and low diversity in term of ideologies is blatantly absurd. i lost my faith for to some of them already. i dont need an 30 years old hag or something setting up the idealization of a society to me when he/she cant handle the society outside the echo chamber of an academic environment and still cling persistently there for a living. i dont mind being called reactionary, but to call us antiprogression with our opposing perspectives, how about đéo? concurrence is not how it always works for improvement. that's just plain masturbatory.

whatever, just get a work to get it done. im more fearful to drop my ambitions too low than dying for it. its simple to be arrogant when youre still in school, yet within a few years therell be mountains to not defining scores and social statuses as successes, after all being a huge fish in a small pond is nothing to being a small fish in the ocean. the seniors should stop telling their juniors that everything will be alright and we should appease ourselves, because we will be the one who will make it alright not waiting for some miracles to occur. i will teach my juniors that, don't pamper the mentally weak mindsets otherwis regrets will arrive soon. 

this is fucking if my tasks can be carried out this smoothlyyyyyyyyy. fuck this shit, im done with this whiny trash of a rant. i wish my neighbor turns down that depressed.mp3 of a tune, im trying to stay optimistic here damnitttt.

as a vow, quite hurtful to think of but now its the time to say it, im relinquish my youth for betterment.


End file.
